


write the way into his heart

by lemonsona



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Jeremy Heere: Absolute Nightmare, M/M, Pen Pals, Rated T for language, well really email pals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-14 17:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsona/pseuds/lemonsona
Summary: Jeremy Heere thinks that he only thing that was worse than moving is moving junior year, 800 miles away. When you throw in a surprise pen pal, weirdly supportive classmates, and a mystery to solve? He might be proven wrong.





	1. jeremy makes an entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is an idiot and also a genius, somehow.

**August 4th**

**From:** [ **hellomellow@gmail.com** ](mailto:hellomellow@gmail.com)

**To:** [ **heereforyou@gmail.com** ](mailto:heereforyou@gmail.com)

 

_ Dear former owner of this copy of Apocalypse of the Damned, _

_ Hi!! I just bought this from the second hand shelf at GameStop and it had your email in the back. I don’t know who the fuck puts their email in their video game cases, but I… I don’t know. I kinda was overcome with the impulse to send something to it. You probably won’t even open this- it’ll probably go to spam, or you’ll delete it before reading it. You’ll probably read the first line and then trash it. Maybe you’ve gotten this far! Congrats! You’re probably going to stop reading now. But since it’s MY letter and I can do WHATEVER I WANT, I’m gonna keep talking to the ether.  _

 

_ HOW CAN YOU GIVE AWAY APOCALYPSE OF THE DAMNED??????!!!!! _

 

_ Seriously, dude! How!!!! It’s the best game ever! It has challenge mode! It has single player story mode with a rich and compelling story and complex characters! It even has MULTIPLAYER… not that I’ve ever played that mode, or will ever, probably. I don’t have a lot of friends. The ones I do have are more interested in getting stoned in my basement than playing AWESOME, WELL MADE retro video games. I wish I had someone to play it with. You’d probably be terrible to play with. You gave away the GAME, first of all, which probably means you either didn’t like it or weren’t good at it. For your sake, I hope it’s the latter, because if you didn’t like it something is SERIOUSLY wrong with you.  _

 

_ Okay, I think I’ve ranted sufficiently. If you read this (which I seriously doubt you will), shoot me a line back! If you don’t read this, then how do you know what I’m saying right now? Ha ha. I’m so funny.  _

 

_ -M  _

  
  


**August 7th**

**From:** [ **heereforyou@gmail.com** ](mailto:heereforyou@gmail.com)

**To:** [ **hellomellow@gmail.com** ](mailto:hellomellow@gmail.com)

 

_ Dear person who bought my (former) copy of Apocalypse of the Damned,  _

 

_ Hello. I debated for a long time where or not I should write back, but you seem harmless enough. I hope you’re having a fun time playing Apocalypse of the Damned. You better not be playing on my save! You have to earn those levels fair and square. You probably sent me the email before you booted up the game, because my save file on there has over 200 hours. I LOVE AotD! It’s probably my favorite game of all time. I’m glad you brought up the story, because that’s my favorite part and no one ever talks about it! It’s always about the multiplayer and whether or not they’re going to add battle royale, blah blah blah. Or at least, in the online community that is. The only person I knew IRL who played was only really into multiplayer. But I think the story is so compelling! It’s about love and truth and how relationships can survive under duress and how nothing is black and white and just- ugh. I love it so much. And for an older game, the combat system is so elegant!! Have you ever unlocked the secret route? _

 

_ You’re probably not going to respond. You probably just wrote the first email as a laugh and forgot all about it, and when you see this in your inbox you’ll just be weirded out. As you can tell, I have a lot of anxiety. My dad says it’s healthy to write it out. What’s the worst that can happen? Okay, my fevered anxious brain can think of a lot of bad things but I’m going to desperately try to ignore them.  _

 

_ -J  _

 

**August 8th**

**From:** [ **hellomellow@gmail.com** ](mailto:hellomellow@gmail.com)

**To:** [ **heereforyou@gmail.com** ](mailto:heereforyou@gmail.com)

 

_ HEY! It’s good to hear from you :D! I’m going to be completely honest- I really didn’t think you’d write back. But don’t get me wrong!! I’m really glad you did. You seem kinda like me. Which may seem like an insult- I probably don’t seem that cool. I’m not. As you can see, I have a pretty fevered and anxious brain too.  _

 

_ Dude. I did indeed write the first email before I booted up the game, and I stand corrected. I’m honored to stand before a master of AotD. 200 FREAKING HOURS!!! That’s insane, man! I went on your save file (just to see how far you were! Not to cheat! Honest!) and WOW. You’ve unlocked all the chapters, both secret routes, and all the secret unlockable characters? Wow. Just wow. But I just have one question…. If you were so good at the game, and clearly so into it, why did you give it away? I checked your completion progress. You were only 4% away from unlocking every… single… thing in the game. Why would you sell it? You were so close, man!  _

 

_ Sorry if I’m being nosy. I just love this game and have no outlet for it, lol. Anyways, I really hope you’re doing cool and I hope you write me back :3c _

_ -M  _

 

**August 9th (DRAFT)**

**From:** [ **heereforyou@gmail.com** ](mailto:heereforyou@gmail.com)

**To:** [ **hellomellow@gmail.com** ](mailto:hellomellow@gmail.com)

 

_ My parents got divorced. It was my fault.  _

 

_ I guess I’m punishing myself for _

 

**(DELETED)**

 

**August 9th**

**From:** [ **heereforyou@gmail.com** ](mailto:heereforyou@gmail.com)

**To:** [ **hellomellow@gmail.com** ](mailto:hellowmellow@gmail.com)

 

_ I don’t really want to talk about it. Can we just talk about the game? Or anything else? Tell me about yourself.  _

 

_ -J  _

 

**August 10th**

**From:** [**hellomellow@gmail.com** ](mailto:hellomellow@gmail.com)

**To:** [ **heereforyou@gmail.com** ](mailto:heereforyou@gmail.com)

 

_ Yeah man, sure. I get it. Changing subjects now! I’ve been playing AotD for like four years now, since it came out, and I still haven’t run out of things to say about it, so don’t worry. Unpopular opinion time- I don’t like Ada and Mike together. They just feel kinda contrived, y’know? In my HUMBLE GAY OPINION, Ada and Irene feel way more natural and just make more sense! They’re best friends, they CHOSE each other and keep choosing each other again and again! What do Ada and Mike do? Be disgustingly heterosexual? Ugh, sorry. I’m a bitter homo. And Mike’s just kind of unlikeable! Like how in the third act of the story he… _

 

**September 3rd**

The only thing that sucked worse than changing schools was changing schools during junior year 800 miles away from your old school. 

Jeremy swallowed heavily against the nervous lump in his throat. It might be cliche, but it was true. Everyone already had friend groups, tightly bound circles and customs set in stone, and he was never going to be able to catch up. He felt a sudden tight, hot flare of resentment at his dad for ditching their old life in Georgia for this suburb in New Jersey where he was an outsider, and another, bigger flare of resentment towards his mom for kicking them out in the first place.

School was just as bad as he’d feared. Sure, no one had pushed him into a locker or given him a tighty whitey, but no one spoke to him. A girl in Spanish asked him for a pencil, and that was about the limit of his social interaction. He mostly kept his head down and to himself. He knew it was better that way- if he didn’t reach out, he couldn’t be rejected- but the loneliness threatened to swallow him whole all the same. 

Lunch is a tired affair, with terrible cafeteria food and the pants-shittingly terrifying experience of trying to find a place to sit. Here, the school allowed students to sit wherever they wanted during lunch, which was an hour long- to foster learning or whatever. Jeremy found a quiet corner in a hallway and popped his earbuds in, picking at soggy lettuce and listening to emo songs for the whole hour. 

The only good class he has the whole day is art, and that’s because it’s basically a free period. The teacher just puts on music and lets the kids do whatever, so Jeremy pulls out his earbuds again and listens to dumb show tunes while he sketches on a loose sheet of cardstock. 

When he gets home, he flops on his bed, already despairing at the mounds of homework he has. His whole body feels heavy, like he’s being weighed down with stones. Before he breaks down completely, he forces himself up to sit at his desk, cracking his laptop open. He has another email from M waiting for him, and he feels himself cheer up just at seeing the notification in his inbox. They’ve been emailing back and forth on and on for a couple weeks, but it feels like years. It’s just email, but it really feels like they’re on the same wavelength- like they really get each other. He skims the email. It’s M’s normal long, winding email about anything and everything. 

_ Dude, it was my first day back at school today and it fucking sucked. My Spanish teacher told me I was putting the wrong ending on the noun “esposo”and it should be “esposa,” for wife and I told her I actually put esposo on purpose. That means husband, btw, so I kind of came out to my Spanish teacher today. I probably could’ve just stayed quiet and taken the L but I didn’t want to get points docked for a mistake I DIDN’T EVEN MAKE! Priorities, right?  _

It went on like that for another page and a half. M somehow managed to share extremely personal anecdotes without saying anything about himself at all. All Jeremy really knew was that he was a dude, he was gay, and he lived somewhere in the New Jersey area. M knew even less about him- only that he was an avid Apocalypse of the Damned player. 

Jeremy starts to compose a reply to M, in the same rambling vein as M’s original emails. When they first started writing to each other, Jeremy always tried to keep things short and concise, afraid if he talked too much the other person would get annoyed or bored with him, but that didn’t happen, and gradually he loosened up. Now he writes 5 page emails about whatever the fuck he wants. He tells M about school, and his feelings about being new, how hard it is, about his shitty lunch he brought from home and how Algebra II sucks and art is pretty nice. As the letter draws to a close, he chews his nails and debates with himself for almost a full five minutes before adding another couple of sentences before his typical closing. 

_This might be a little weird, so just ignore me if this makes you uncomfortable, but do you want to exchange phone numbers?_ _I just wish we could talk during school and stuff._

He sends the email without proofreading, and then immediately slams the fucking laptop shut. Pushing his chair away from his desk almost angrily, he starts to pace around the room, chewing at his thumbnail with a vengeance. 

“Fucking calm down,” he mutters to himself. “It’s not like you’re asking for his hand in marriage. It’s just a phone number.” It doesn’t help calm him down, and he knows he’s going to have to change his shirt soon- he’s a nervous perspirer. 

He spends the rest of the day unsuccessfully trying to do homework to distract himself from his failures as a human being. He fails, but at least he’s on top of things for the new school year.


	2. christine makes an entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy makes some aggressive new friends.

**September 4th**

The next day is strange for two reasons- he doesn’t get an email from M and he gets invited to eat lunch with people. 

 

He’s in the cafeteria going through the lunchline, because he overslept this morning and didn’t get the opportunity to pack his own lunch, when a hand grabs his backpack. He lets out a high-pitched shriek and nearly throws his lunch tray (filled with mildly disgusting looking chicken nuggets and a soggy bread roll) in the air before gaining control over his appendages again. Turning around to face his assaulter, he sees a tallish blonde girl with, if he does say so himself, immaculate fashion sense. He’s fucking confused for a minute, because she seems like the type of girl who would never be caught dead talking to him- she’s squinting her eyes, looking judgemental, and holds herself with an unnatural confidence. She’s got sunglasses perched on top of her head  _ in school _ , which really shows the type of person she is. 

 

In a nutshell, she looks rich and bitchy and popular, and rich and bitchy and popular people just don’t talk to him. They just don’t. 

 

She opens her mouth, and he winces internally, waiting for the fabled high school bullying he’s been waiting for, but what comes out of her mouth instead is just, “Come.” Then she walks away. More confused than ever, he follows her, which he assumes is what she meant. She winds a path through the crowded and noisy cafeteria, eventually coming to a stop at a table near the center of the room with four other people already sitting there. She plops down in an empty seat next to a brunette girl, who is filing her nails. Jeremy stands there awkwardly, clutching his lunch tray like a shield. 

 

“This is Jeremy,” the blonde girl says to the rest of the table. Jeremy, who is still hovering, has no clue how she knows his name. She looks over at him and raises an eyebrow, saying  _ you’re still standing? _ without saying a single word. He sits. 

 

A small girl across the table with sable skin and dark bobbed hair almost lunges across the table at him, smiling wide. “Hi! Ohmygod, it’s  _ so  _ nice to meet you,” she says, and her voice is almost painfully cheery. Her eyes are wide and sincere. “I’m Christine, the girl who probably rudely  _ dragged _ you here is Chloe, that’s Brooke-” the brunette girl takes a break from filing her nails to do a peace sign in greeting- “and those two jocks are Rich and Jake.” She points to them in introduction. Jake is tall and classically handsome, and Rich is almost as small as Christine. 

 

“Um, hi,” he says weakly. They all stare at him in unison for a brief moment before resuming what Jeremy assumes is a previous conversation. Jeremy takes a huge bite of his bread roll so he doesn’t have to participate in something he knows nothing about, but it doesn’t seem to work. Christine is hell-bent on including him, asking his opinion on whatever they’re talking about, explaining their inside jokes to him when he’s clearly clueless. 

 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he blurts, almost miserably. The conversation grinds to a halt. Brooke even stops filing her nails. 

 

Christine just smiles at him. “Because you’re new,” she says cheerfully. “And you seemed lonely.” 

 

“Chrissie likes to adopt strays,” Chloe adds scathingly, tilting her head slightly. “For some reason, she’s decided you’re her new  _ pet _ project.” She narrows her eyes again. “Don’t worry, though. You’ll have to prove your worth one way or another.” She punctuates her sentence by crunching a carrot. The crack sounds like a bone breaking. 

 

He squeaks. “Um. Okay?” There really is no right response to a terrifying girl telling you to prove your worth, so he just dips a chicken nugget in ranch and lets the conversation move on without him. 

 

A couple minutes later, they start talking about musical theatre, and Jeremy perks up. He took voice lessons back home in Georgia, and he was in his school’s theatre program. Not knowing how to enter the conversation now, he just listens. 

 

“No, no,” Chloe says, frustrated. “I told you, it’s about the son of a king who does all this shit to seem cool. And it’s like, the weirdest fucking musical because all he does is whine and then almost kills himself at the end. And it’s like, told by clowns or something. I just can’t remember the name.” 

 

Christine, who seems to be their resident theatre expert, looks lost. “I don’t think I know that one. Sing something?” 

 

“Ugh!” Chloe crunches another carrot. “I can’t remember much.” She starts humming a simple tune that Jeremy immediately recognizes. 

 

He swallows a bite of mediocre nugget and says, “Oh, that’s Pippin. It’s about a group of circus performers telling the Pippin’s story, but they break the fourth wall at the end and it’s really cool.” He swallows again and starts gesticulating wildly, unable to help it. “It’s actually a really cool musical, ‘cuz it can be seen as a metaphor for depression, and at the end Pippin ultimately rejects the role set out for him and they take down all the lights and backdrops for the audience-” he forces himself to stop rambling, shoving the bread roll in his mouth. 

 

Chloe looks mildly impressed for half a second, then eats another carrot, schooling her face back into neutrality. “It just seemed like a play about a bunch of clowns.” Jeremy sighs, frustrated. 

Christine, however, is looking out at him with heart-eyes. “Jeremy!” she squeals. “Do you like theatre?” She clasps her hands under her chin. . 

 

“Um. Yeah,” he responds awkwardly. He wants to stuff something else in his mouth to stall this conversation but he honestly can’t force himself to eat another chicken nugget. Those things are vile and cannot be classified as chicken. 

 

Christine squeals again. “We all do theatre too!” She gestures at the rest of the table, which surprises Jeremy a little. Not to typecast, but Rich and Jake seem more like the type to make fun of theatre, not participate in it. 

 

Chloe snorts. “By ‘do theatre,’ she means she dragged us all into it,” she says, biting a carrot and narrowing her eyes. “But it’s something to do, so we do it.” 

 

Brooke, who seems to mostly agree with Chloe on everything, nods enthusiastically. “It’s kind geeky,” she quips, “but it’s fun!” 

 

Christine ignores them and leans across the table, elbow almost landing in her own cup of ranch. “You. Need. To join,” she says, uber-serious. “The class is super fun and we need more people to get funding anyway!” Her voice picks up volume the longer she speaks. 

 

Jeremy stares at her. “Um,” he squeaks. “I already have my schedule?” It comes out as a question, even though he doesn’t mean it to. 

 

Christine laughs hysterically and withdraws back across the table. “Don’t worry about that! Chloe can take care of it.” Chloe, out of carrots, eats a Wheat-Thin menacingly. Jeremy is both awed and frightened by her ability to crunch something so scarily. 

 

And that’s pretty much it. He’s apparently been accepted into a clique, taken under Christine’s wing, made a group of lifelong friends- whatever you want to call it. For the rest of the period they talk shop about theatre. For a person who says she just does it because it’s something to pass the time, Chloe seems pretty into it. They get into a deep debate about the unavailability of good parts for girls, especially in high school theatre, and how boys get leading roles just because there’s such a lack of men in theatre. Jeremy can relate- he has a pretty impressive rap sheet, but at first that was only because he was the only guy in their theatre program, not because of any actual talent. 

 

When the bell rings, Christine throws away his trash for him and then walks him to his next class, chattering happily about everything and anything. She’s a nice girl, and Jeremy finds himself genuinely wanting to be friends with her. In another life, he would probably be head over heels for her. 

 

The rest of the day passes without much fanfare, and he’s home before he knows it. He’s trying not to get his hopes up like a little kid about the prospect of friendship, but honestly, it would be good to have some people to hang out with. The one friend he’s had since they moved was M, and while he was certainly a friend, it was different to have someone you could actually see and talk to in real life. 

 

The point is, he’s stupidly excited to tell M about his day. So he’s mildly shocked and a little hurt when he boots up his computer and his inbox is empty. His brain instantly kicks into overdrive, wondering if he did or said something to push him away. He wants to pull at his hair, angrily. How could he have pushed so far? 

 

Jeremy waits around for the rest of the night, hoping M simply hasn’t had the time to answer him yet. Deep down, he knows that’s not the case, and he’s proven right when the night wears on and his inbox stays empty. After an excessive amount of time spent waiting around, he finally gives up and goes to bed.  

 

He hopes he has an email in the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> christine!!!!! <3 loml. 
> 
> sorry not much happens here. these characters won't ever shut the fuck up 
> 
> michael will make an entrance very soon, don't worry!!


	3. michael makes an entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theatre kids are kind of obnoxious.

**September 5th**

It’s really fucking sad to say, but the first thing he does when he wakes up is check his email. Bleary-eyed and barely awake, he squints against the brightness of his laptop screen and opens his inbox. 

 

Nothing. Nada. Zip. 

 

Jeremy knows he’s being a little dramatic. It’s not that serious, and it potentially could just be because of some totally innocuous reason- like M is out of town and just can’t get to his computer, or something. But it feels like some sort of enormous betrayal, and for a minute Jeremy has to fight back tears, and then he gets mad at himself for being upset over something so miniscule. Long story short- not a good morning. 

 

When he gets to school, already wrung-out emotionally, his teacher tells him to go to the counselor’s office for some scheduling changes. It confuses the hell out of him, because he didn’t request any schedule changes except to drop AP Human, because fuck that class, which already got put through. The counselor’s student assistant hands him a schedule, still warm from the printer. They look like they’ll literally murder him if he asks any questions, so he just takes it and leaves. The new schedule is a carbon copy of his usual one, except Visual Arts has been dropped for Musical Theatre. Jeremy is momentarily blown away. Seems like Chloe really swings some power around here, if she can get him into that class already. 

 

So he goes to the auditorium third period, clutching the straps of his backpack. Part of him is, crazily, worried that this whole thing is some big prank on the new kid- but Christine seems too genuinely nice to do something like that, so he takes a deep breath and walks into the room. There’s not a lot of people in the room, which is only made more apparent by how fucking huge the auditorium is. It could easily hold 500 people, but everyone is crammed in the first two rows. Jeremy does a quick head count, and there can’t be more than 15 people in the room. The only boys are Rich, Jake, and now him. 

 

Jeremy’s feet are loud on the carpeted aisle and it feels like everyone turns to look at him. Christine and Chloe are standing at the front of the class, just in front of the stage. Chloe has her hands on her hips and tsks at him, while Christine starts waving wildly. 

 

“Finally, you’re here,” Chloe says, frowning. 

 

“Jeremy! I’m so glad you made it!” Christine beams at the same time. 

 

Chloe points at a chair in the front row and says, “Sit.” Jeremy does, feeling a little bit like a trained dog. His backpack gets caught on a girl’s leg as he passes by, and he nearly falls over, apologizing profusely to her. She just smiles at him, but he feels mortified anyway. 

 

Christine starts talking about how she’s so glad to see everyone again this year, and she and Christine trade off on a speech about theatre conduct and their expectations of the class. Jeremy didn’t think she had it in her, but Christine is quietly terrifying. He thinks if anyone disappoints her they will all cry. 

 

Halfway through their speech, a loud hammering noise starts, emanating from behind the stage. Jeremy looks around, but he seems to be the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on- everyone else just looks quietly resigned. 

 

Backpack Leg Girl next to him notices his confusion and leans over. “That’s the tech theatre class. They build sets and do lights and stuff,” she explains, whispering. “Their classroom is a warehouse behind the stage.” He nods to her in thanks. Fucking weird. 

 

They do some of the typical weird acting exercises, with Chloe and Christine still leading. Jeremy has yet to see a teacher and he’s seriously doubting their existence at this point. About two-quarters of the way through the class, he starts to feel seriously overwhelmed by all the noise. Theatre kids can be a little over-exuberant, and it’s starting to grate on his senses. His face feels flushed and hot, and even Christine notices and asks him if he’s okay. He tells her he needs to go to the bathroom, and she helpfully points him in the direction of the nearest one. 

He doesn’t actually go to the bathroom. Instead, he goes to a water fountain near it, and takes a long drink. He feels a little bit better, especially once he splashes his face with water too, and after several deep breaths, he feels ready to go back into the auditorium. 

 

Before he can, though, a nearby door opens, and a guy sticks his head out. “Hey! You!” he yells in Jeremy’s direction. Jeremy, a little baffled, points at himself and raises his eyebrows. “Yes, you! Come here!” 

 

Jeremy has no idea what the fuck is going on, but he goes. Curse his submissive and anxious nature! 

 

He follows the guy through the door, hunching his shoulder and holding himself stiffly. The guy has brought him into a large, high-ceilinged workshop-ish building. Through a large garage door that’s wedged open, he can see the backstage area of the auditorium. Another garage, closed, sits at the back of the room. Jeremy guesses it leads to the outside of the school for deliveries and such. 

 

In the center of the workshop, a large space has been cleared and a hunk of chiseled together wood sits. It’s seems to be functioning as a bridge, several feet up from the floor. Six people are already standing on it, giggling nervously. 

 

“Okay, so I need you to get on this bridge,” the guy says quickly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. 

 

Jeremy does not want to do that. 

 

“Um, what?” he squeaks. 

 

“Okay, so,” the guy starts, gesturing his arms like he’s giving a Ted Talk™. “We’re doing this project where whoever builds the most effective bridge wins. If one more person can stand on mine, I win.” One of the people on the bridge gives a little wave. The dude shrugs. “As you can see, this class doesn’t have a lot of people and Mr. Allen  _ refuses _ to get on.” He pouts. His lips are big and shiny. 

 

Focus, idiot, Jeremy tells himself. He looks at the thing this guy wants him to suspend his (precious) person on. It looks unsteady and too narrow for the six kids already crammed on it. He wants to say, “I am not doing that because it looks unsafe and what if I’m the extra weight it needs to fall?” like a normal-ass person, but what comes out of his mouth instead is: 

 

“Dude, I don’t want to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.” 

 

As soon as the words are out of his mouth he cringes, but the guy seems delighted in a faux-scandalized way. 

 

“Excellent turn of phrase!” he says, grinning wildly. “But I’m like 100% sure it’s  _ probably  _ maybe not gonna break.” He scratches his nose.    
  


“That’s not very reassuring,” Jeremy squeaks. 

 

“Dude,” the guy huffs, sounding exasperated. Jeremy thinks that’s pretty unfair, seeing as  _ he’s _ the one being asked to risk life and limb to help some dude he doesn’t know win a fucking engineering contest. “Please? I’ll buy you a coffee or something.” 

 

“With what money?” a guy squished on the bridge calls out, smirking. 

 

“The money I win from beating your ass at this contest, Dustin!” the guy yells back, good natured. He doesn’t take his eyes off Jeremy. Jeremy can feel his will weakening, especially as the guy blinks his eyes at him, eyes large and pleading. 

 

So Jeremy goes. He reasons to himself, it’s held up this far. It’s probably safe. The other kids wouldn’t have gotten on if it wasn’t, right? And even if it breaks, it’s only like, 4 feet above the ground. He won’t get  _ that  _ hurt. 

 

Right? 

 

He walks up the stairs leading up to the bride. Gingerly, and with the greatest of care, he steps on the bridge, having to crowd up close against the other kids. Someone giggles. The bridge creaks. Jeremy is so worried it feels like he’s about to throw up. 

 

The bridge stays intact. 

 

“Yes!” the guy on the floor yells estactically, pumping his fists in the air. He proceeds to do a victory dance as the other kids groan, presumably pissed about losing the contest. A chorus of “Fuck you, Michael,”s ring out as the other kids peel themselves off the bridge. Dustin hops off the structure, landing hard, and goes over to punch the winner- Michael- lightly on the shoulder. 

 

“Yes, yes, well done Michael,” an older man who Jeremy guesses is the tech theatre teacher says, coming over to the scene. He hands Michael a gift card. Michael cradles it close to his chest, looking way too pleased for what is probably a 10 dollar prize at max. 

 

Jeremy is pretty sure his job is done, so he decides to remove himself from the situation. The period is probably almost over anyway, and he needs to get back to class. He’s halfway out the door before Michael calls out to him. 

 

“Hey!” he says, jogging over to the door. He’s smiling widely. “Where are you going?” 

 

“Um,” Jeremy responds, eloquently. “I have to go back to class?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but it does. 

 

Michael shoves a phone at him. “Okay, but you need to put your number in,” he says patiently, still smiling. 

 

Jeremy manages to stop himself from saying um again. “Why?” he asks. He starts to type in his phone number anyway. 

 

“Because I am the winner of a fifteen dollar Starbucks gift card,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. He taps Jeremy on the chest with the aforementioned gift card and Jeremy feels himself turning as red as Michael’s hoodie. “And I have so  _ graciously _ decided to buy you a coffee for being the man to win me my prize, and I need your number so I can text you to set it up.” He smiles, looking immensely pleased with himself. Some distant, gay part of Jeremy’s brain notes that he has really cute dimples, and he feels himself blushing harder. 

 

“Uh. Okay,” he meekly says, thrusting the phone back at Michael. “I have to go now.” And he flees. Outside in the hallway, he takes a moment to compose himself before going back to the auditorium. 

 

He can’t stop thinking about big brown eyes, shallow dimples, and a Starbucks gift card.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally!! the man of the hour appears in the flesh!!! 
> 
> i originally had more planned for this chapter but it ended up being kind of long. i told you, these kids are way too chatty. 
> 
> anyways next chapter will probably be up later this week/next weekend!

**Author's Note:**

> yeah this is stupid but whatever 
> 
> title is from [your reality](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CAL4WMpBNs0) from the ddlc ost 
> 
> for clarification, this is an au in which Jeremy and his father move to NJ after his parent's divorce. the squipcident still happened, but happened sophomore year, with Christine taking over Jeremy's role. Michael still saves the day :3


End file.
